


A Fifteen Percent Chance

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: Alex eats ya what more do you want, Brief Jealously, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I guess it's mature bc the sex isn't super detailed?, Less than Platonic Cuddling, Multi, Oral Sex, Platonic Cuddling, Reader is Gender Neutral/Coded as Trans, im.... Trash, lmao better safe than sorry, tfw u try to write fluff but it turns into snarky sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10596147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: Alex is jealous of how close you and Dana are and somehow a reassuring pep talk turns into Alex eating you out





	

**Author's Note:**

> "Play this game," luisa says. "You'll love it and we can talk headcanons." 
> 
> Me, two weeks later: im in love and also feelin smutty
> 
> But yeah I've got fluffy stuff planned but of course this is this first thing I finish. Sorry if the smut itself isn't to good?? I feel pretty great abt their dialog and personalities but also,, I'm still not completely sure how to write smut bc its different for everyone and I like maintaining a certain amount of freedom for readers 
> 
> Anyways,,,,,,, you wanna bang the virus boy and pretend proto 2 isn't a thing?   
> This fic is for you

Dana and Alex are so unlike each other sometimes you wonder if they're related. You can see it their eyes (they have the same foggy blue grey), but where Dana is inquisitive, Alex is ruthless, and where Alex is aggressively proactive, Dana is a behind-the-scenes person.

Alex is restless (much like yourself most days), while Dana can stay in one place for hours on end. She can stay, for example, on the couch while you make lunch, clean your bedroom, and generally wander around the apartment aimlessly.

She hooks her fingers into your pocket the next time you pass her, although she doesn't glance up from her laptop. She's biting down on her lip, eyebrows pulled together fretfully. "Sit with me?" She asks.

"...Sure." You say.

She smiles like you made her whole day just by agreeing to cuddle. Setting her laptop down on the coffee table, she moves so you can lay down. She then lies down on top of you, her head resting on your chest. It's the ideal position for watching YouTube videos together on the couch, you've found.

Dana grabs her laptop and continues from where she was, explaining its a play through of some new horror game. "It reminded me of Alex." She confesses after a moment. "I couldn't... I want to watch it but I don't think I can alone."

You make a humming noise of assurance, running a hand through her hair. "It's fine. I know its still... Hard for you." That's an understatement.

She snorts. "I still don't know why you're dating him."

"It's the limitless charm." You respond cheerfully.

"My brother couldn't charm the pants off a stripper." She deadpans.

You blink. "Why would a stripper be wearing pants in the first place?"

She falls silent for a moment, obviously to find a snappy reply. "I assume strippers aren't always wearing lingerie." She finally settles on.

"So you're saying if Alexander found a stripper, like, in walmart, he would be unable to charm their pants off." You try not to laugh, you really do.

"Shut up. And you're the only one who calls him Alexander." She lifts her head just to slam it back down on you, and you yank on her hair in righteous retribution. This devolves into a play fight that ends when her laptop almost ends up on the floor.

You're still laughing as she tries to find the last place she remembers, and she's not any better. She resumes the video only when you promise not to "make fun of her" anymore, and you quickly realize why she thought of Alex when watching this.

The main enemies, while a fair bit more... Grotesque than Alex, do have similar abilities. Their arms especially are very Blacklight-esque. You wouldn't be surprised if the design was inspired by footage of the Outbreak.

You continue watching even after your cuddle buddy falls asleep. You have to move to accommodate when she twists onto her stomach and wraps her arms around your waist.

The laptop ends up back on the coffee table and while you have to tilt your head at an odd angle to see the screen, you like the warmth Dana provides too much to move.

Alex is not a naturally affectionate person. He wants to be, you think, but he just doesn't seem to know how to be. He's just awkward and scared. He hesitates to respond to affection, and has a tendency to pay more attention to himself and how he's holding you than the intimacy and comfort meant to be within the actions. He's scared of hurting you, of killing you. You can acknowledge that without liking it.

There's absolutely no surprise affection. No surprise, spur of the moment hugs or anything of the sort. He's too jumpy, and you're too careful to risk that. You're not afraid of him, not by a long shot, but you know how instincts work and how on edge he is.

Which, is understandable given the last few months.

As if a testament to that thought, Dana stirs. Her eyes are hazy with sleep from her impromptu nap, but not enough to make you worried. She's still recovering from her kidnapping and whatever Elizabeth did to her, but Dr. Ragland and Alex are both adamant that she'll be fine.

"Good morning." You tease.

She simply blinks at you before burying her face in your shirt again. "Night."

You roll your eyes and return to the video.

The next time you're interrupted, its by the strangely familiar sound of Alex slamming onto the roof. Not hard enough to break anything (which you know he could), but still loud enough to get Dana grumbling curses in her sleep.

You set her back at ease with an agreeable, "It's just your brother being obnoxious."

Said brother drops down onto the fire escape and swings into the living room, three or four grocery bags hanging off one arm. He pauses when he notices you and Dana, his eyes narrowing. "Am I interrupting something?" He asks, thinly veiled venom in his voice.

He's jealous.

You'd probably be amused by this reaction if you didn't know where it was stemming from. Alex still thinks you're going to leave him for a normal human, and you can't imagine that said normal human being his sister would help.

You hold your hands out for him, demanding, "Come here."

His lip twitches, like he's still deciding between smiling and frowning. He throws the groceries onto the table before joining you, kneeling down on the floor next to the couch and allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck. "Welcome home." You murmur, quiet enough that Dana doesn't wake.

Alex takes a deep breath, resting his head on your shoulder. "Did you miss me?" He asks.

His tone implies its a joke, but you know he'd be hurt if you didn't confirm, "Of course. Dana had me watching horror games again."

"Like we don't get enough horror." Alex snorts, his form shifting underneath your fingers. The red and black biomass hardly bothers you (in fact, you find it rather fascinating, but Mercer makes a face when you mention that).

You grin, "If you're referring to yourself as horror, I will never get enough."

This garners a laugh from your boyfriend. Not a mocking chuckle or a half hearted attempt to appease Dana, but an actual honest to god laugh. "You're terrible." He says, the same way he says, "I love you."

"I love you too." You respond, not sweet and warm like you want it to be, but matter-of-fact.

"Ugh." Dana's voice is muffled by your shirt but nonetheless decipherable, "You're both disgusting." She all but shoves you out from underneath her, and while she does appear honestly annoyed, she grins at you when you go tumbling into her brother's lap.

Alex laughs again as he pulls himself to his feet, lifting you along with him with apparent ease. "I got the things to make fettuccine." He says without grabbing the grocery bags. He walks right through the kitchen too, only stopping when he gets to the shared bedroom to set you down (with surprising gentleness) on the bed.

"Didn't realize we can cook from bed." You hum, watching Alex retreat back into the living room. Figuring you'll either end up watching TV or chilling with Alex, you shuck off your sweatpants.

You can hear Dana saying something (probably something dirty, if you had to guess), and Alex's precise response. Dana's boisterous laugh overshadow's any that Alex might've had, but you find yourself smiling anyway.

Then there's the sound of plastic being ruffled, presumably from Alex moving the groceries to their proper place (from the coffee table to the kitchen table). You get annoyed only when it sounds like he's actually putting things in the cupboard. As if you're not right here, waiting.

"Alexander!" You call, purposefully dramatizing his name.

He responds with a deadpanned version of your name, and Dana yells her own with an overdone New Yorker accent.

"Bada bing!" You shout, making finger guns.

"Bada boom!" Dana responds with gusto.

You want to continue the game but you can't get past the laughter when Alex says, "I'm walkin here!"

Dana sounds like she's in the same state, and Alex has a smug grin on his face when he finally returns. He kicks the door shut behind him, not hard enough to slam but enough to close it fully (the damn thing sticks _all the time_ ).

He moves casually now, not like when you first met him and everything screamed predator. You still catch flashes of that part of him, but its more uncommon as he begins to get reacquainted with being human. Ish.

He stretches and his body does the Thing. His entire form becomes obstructed with raw biomass, as if the virus itself is stretching too. When Alex-the-person reappears, he's lost his jackets, button up, jeans, and shoes. Convenient, because his clothes also being technically a part of him, while seriously cool, is annoying while trying to get as close as possible.

"I love when you do that." You say, waiting for him to lay down to get your cuddle on.

He makes a noise that's neither a sigh nor a laugh, but some strange fusion of both. "You love when I reshape my form at will?"

"Yes." You answer simply.

"I suppose its a good thing I'm the only one who can do that now." He says, lifting a hand up to cup your cheek. He rubs at one of the scars caused by debris, not mournfully but like he's checking that its still there. Making sure you're still you.

"Hey." You prompt, trying to regain his attention.

He raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement.

"Wanna make out?"

He laughs so abruptly he almost headbutts you. You pull back just in time to watch him curl up, his body shaking with laughter. One of you legs moves with him, but only because somehow it has ended up between both of his. "Haven't you ever heard of romance?" He asks, not cruelly, but like he honestly wanted an answer.

"What the fucks a romance?" You say with appropriate disbelief.

Alex doesn't answer aside from giving a half hearted sigh (the "I can't believe I'm in love with you" is silent, but you hear it anyway). There's no time for you to say something even less romantic before he's doing as requested, pressing his lips to yours with a softness that has no place in Alexander J. Mercer.

(But, oh, he is soft, just not in ways Blackwatch would keep tabs on. They do not care if their virus makes his sister her favorites when she is having a decidedly Bad Day or that he has the day that he met you circled on his calendar. They don't pay attention to the fact he does not kill civilians, only that he kills. Or that while the previous Alex Mercer was not exactly a kind person, the virus Alex Mercer tries to be)

You are greedy. You want to move as close as possible, press yourself against him so much that there is no space in between and to dig your fingers into his shoulders so he knows to stay with you.

Alex is patient. Alex runs the tips of his fingers down your cheek, over your neck, tracing your collarbones. He is not possessive in the same sense that you are. He's scared you will leave for someone else, but he seems to accept it as a possibility.

But that isn't really the line of thinking you should be on while kissing the person in question, and all it takes is one well placed hand on your hip to remind you of that.

He's the one to break away when you start debating whether or not you need to breathe, but you only allow him enough time to catch your breath before kissing him again.

The second kiss isn't as sweet as the first, but that really wasn't the intent either. The hand on your hip slips underneath the edge of your shirt, his thumb tracing the muscles there. He could name them, if you wanted him to (he's done it, and while it wasn't really a turn on, it did end with laughter and more cuddling).

You hum your satisfaction with the motion, tilting yourself into it.

"We need to get our own apartment." The words are murmured against your lips, dripping with an odd mix of affection and fact.

You pull away with a laugh, "Why?"

"So I can do shit like this without worrying about my sister hearing you." In apology for the less than eloquent phrasing, his hand delves lower, tracing your hipbones.

The noise you make in response really only proves his point. "You're terrible." You say after a moment, looking at a particularly interesting scar he has on his shoulder instead of the no-doubt extremely smug look on his face.

"I've had people say worse things." He says unaffectedly, fingers spider-webbing over the top of your thigh. It's the promise behind it that makes you jittery. Like maybe this time he's actually going to continue. (You've been dying to make jokes about being the only person to survive being eaten by Alex Mercer, truthfully)

"Not in this position, hopefully." You say, shifting your leg. Alex's clamp down in retaliation, keeping you in place. It's probably the closest thing to a display of power you've gotten out of him so far.

Alex's smile is sharp as a knife. "It is a first." He says, moving to kiss the corner of your mouth. "But," He kisses the underside of your jaw now, "Not one I'd protest."

"Does that only extend to while your hands are in my pants or does it also include when Dana asks me "how was the sex?"" You ask, in an attempt to distract yourself.

"Hands?" He puts emphasis on the plural and completely skips any mention of his sister. Because of course he does, he's Alex Mercer. He only hears what he wants to.

You would roll your eyes if not for the sudden change in position. Alex flips the two of you without difficulty, managing to get you onto your back (which you'll admit is not a common position you're in with him). He releases your leg only so that he can settle his between both of yours, his face returning to the crook of your neck before you can even properly orient yourself.

The fact that this is reminiscent of the cuddling position you were in with Dana doesn't escape your notice, even as Alex slides your shirt up to your ribcage.

You huff in annoyance and shove at his shoulder until he looks up at you curiously. "Are you doing this because you want to or because you're still upset I was cuddling Dana?" The blunt phrasing is only softened by how breathless you sound.

He hesitates, eyebrows furrowing and mouth twisting into a grimace. "I... I do want to do this, independent of my jealousy." He says finally. His fingers dig into your ribs, not enough to really injure, but to do... Something. Reassure himself maybe? Keep you in place?

There's no time to question Alex's motives before he's kissing you again, all sweet and gentle like always. "I love you, and I want to be the one you're... Like that with." He admits as he pulls away. It's very un-Alex to be skirting around the issue, but he seems genuinely uncomfortable. Vulnerable, even.

You sigh. "Alex. You are the only one I want to be with, romantically or sexually. Cuddling with Dana, or any of my friends for that matter, is not... This," You make a vague motion to your current position. "You are allowed to be jealous, because I'm not about to tell you how to feel, but I can assure you its not the same."

There are ways you could've worded that better and a thousand other things you want to add to assure him that he's yours and you're his, but you can't get any of them past the knot in your throat. _Pansy_.

Alex takes a deep breath, like he wants to breathe in your words. You suppose its second nature for him now to want to "take this to heart" quite literally.

"Okay." He says, loosening the bruising grip on your ribs. (If there are actually bruises in the morning you will have to have a stern talk with him) "So." He starts, his stupid smirk making a reappearance. "Have I completely ruined the mood or can I go down on you?"

Embarrassingly, even that terrible excuse for dirty talk sends a rush of warmth through you. "Well, fuck, if that's what you were planning, who am I to say no?"

Alex laughs, but its not quite the laugh you like. It's mixed with that overly cocky laugh usually reserved for military personal trying to out smart him. His kiss is rushed now, eager to fulfill his promise.

The Alex you know and the Alex everyone else knows are starkly different. The Alex that they fear is methodical and cruel, plans within plans and more information than he has any right to.

The Alex here, with you, is messy and giving and makes pleased humming noises when he finds a spot on your neck that makes you arch into him. Your hands tangle in the mess of blankets strewn across the bed, unsure if its okay to be grasping at him instead. You wonder if you'd even leave a mark, dragging your nails over his shoulder blades.

As if reading your hesitance, he unpries one of your hands and says, "You can touch me. You couldn't really hurt me even if you actually tried. I, on the other hand..." He makes a face.

"Could, but won't hurt me." You fill in, giving him a reassuring smile.

He doesn't really seem to have a response to that, instead returning to finding every tender bit of your neck while his hands make quick work of pushing your shirt all the way up. It gets caught under your arms, but you're unwilling to move just to take your shirt off when you very recently received permission to touch him.

"I think..." He says, pulling back to look at your bare chest (there really wasn't any reason to put anything on today, and Dana doesn't care). "I have a love-hate relationship with your clothes."

You snicker. "Why do you say that?"

"I like taking them off you." He starts at your hips and moves up again, as if taking off your shirt. It almost tickles and almost makes you whimper as his fingers (undoubtedly purposefully) ghost over your chest. "But I also hate having to reposition."

"You're impatient." You say, a hand coming up to tilt his face so you can kiss him.

"I could just break it." He hums against your lips. You don't see his arm change, but you can feel the biomass writhing. In place of his fingers are claws, much smaller than his usual set, but nonetheless wickedly sharp.

And holy fuck you did not know that was a kink that you could have.

Alex is careful with them, sliding under your bunched up shirt with the sharp edge facing up and keeping away from your neck just in case. He'd only have to curl his fingers to slice through the shirt.

"Alexander." You say slowly, trying to reason with the side of yourself that finds it _really fucking hot_.

"You don't even like this shirt." He replies absently.

"Alex." You try again.

He glances up at you, eyes dark and dilated. There's something distinctly human about that involuntary reaction, despite the monstrous hand lying on your chest.

"Please," Is all you can get out of your mouth. There's no shame in begging, not with Alex at least. He might tease later, but you know he adores assurances like that.

His answering smile is insufferably smug and your shirt is in tatters in a matter of seconds. He seems very happy with his work too, shifting back a bit to rub a piece of cloth between his fingers (he does a very good job of pretending to be focused on the shirt and not your chest too, you gotta give him props).

He leans forward again, pressing a kiss against the hollow of your throat. Which is all well and good, you suppose, but he promised something much less innocent, and he's not the only impatient one.

"Alex Mercer." You practically growl, fingers tangling in his hair.

His laughter confirms he knows exactly what he's doing. "What? Can't wait a few more minutes?"

It's surprisingly easy to shove Alex off of yourself and onto his back. "Don't be sassy." You say, straddling him.

Alex blinks as if trying to clear his head, hands coming to rest on your thighs. One of which, you might add, is still composed of claws and biomass. He doesn't seem to notice, and you don't have an issue with it, per say. "Fuck."

"Eloquent." You deadpan.

His lips quirk. "So. You gonna get over here or what?"

"I'm already--" You begin, the actual meaning only occurring to you when his eyes drop. Specifically, to where his claws threaten the edge of your last vestiges of clothing. "Oh, definitely."

You make sure he can't rip apart your panties by taking them off first though, ignoring his vaguely annoyed expression as you do so.

"I could've done that." He says, like you're depriving him of something.

"My clothes don't heal themselves. And under things are fucking expensive." You respond, allowing him to help you back up.

"You really know how to set the mood," He comments before kissing your thigh.

Your voice is sweet as can be as you respond, "Fuck you." 

"That's the idea." He hums, following his affectionate kisses with a bite that's more startling than it is painful.

"No one's gonna see that," You feel the need to mention as he seals his lips over it. Alex is exceptional at giving hickeys, you will admit, but nevertheless. The only purpose it serves is getting you even more worked up.

He waits until its a pretty red color to pull away and explain, "I just like em. Sorta wish I could get some too, but _apparently_ hyperactive healing doesn't care about my kinks."

You laugh so hard you nearly fold in on him, your reply coming out as a mash up of curses and Alex's name.

"Healing from bullet wounds is nice though." He says, looking up at you amusedly.

You reach down to run your fingers through his hair affectionately. "I feel like we're getting off topic."

"The topic being getting you off?" He responds cheerfully, returning to his apparent mission of marking every inch of your upper thighs with bite marks and/or hickeys. At least the bite marks will fade by morning.

"You definitely could've worded that better, but yeah."

"Precise language is important. I'm a doctor."

You roll your eyes. "You're a geneticist."

"With a minor in pathology." His non-lethal hand moves to your thigh, silently asking you to spread your legs further.

"You know, I'm like eighty five percent sure this is not recommended pillow talk." You oblige him happily, despite the rather annoyed tone you use.

"So there's a fifteen percent chance--"

"Alexander, if you start talking statistics, I'll get _myself_ off."

To your surprise, Alex looks like he's honestly considering it. "I can watch, right?"

"... _Theoretically_."

He nods, and you get the distinct feeling this conversation in not over even as he finally tilts his head up to lick a broad stripe up your center.

 _Fucking finally_. You don't realize you've said it out loud until Alex hums, his chest shaking with laughter. You smile in return, "Shut up."

His dark eyes glance up just long enough to make it clear he regrets nothing. In fact, he almost looks happier than you. He's enjoying this. The realization sends a wave of pleasure through you, legs clamping down on him.

It doesn't surprise you how easily he gets you on edge (given the fact you to pause to bitch at each other and Alex is a great kisser), but he does seem to have an uncanny ability to know when you're just about to go over. He stops each time, making you writhe and attempt to grind down on him. His claws prick at your skin whenever you move too much for his liking, and you whine.

Wasn't being on top supposed to let you call the shots?

"Alex," You give up trying to be demanding. He's not even in you, both of his hands resting on your thighs. For what purpose, you have no idea. "Please?"

He makes a noise of approval before pulling away and _holy-fucking-hell_ the sight of him all shiny eyed excited with his mouth covered in wetness is going to haunt you. "Please what?"

"God, do I love you." Not exactly what you expected to say, but you guess your mouth knows better than you do at the moment.

His teasing grin gives way to a more tender expression. "I love you too."

The next time he presses his mouth to your core, there's no teasing and you very nearly _scream_. The only keeping your voice at a reasonable level is your own palm. Your orgasm hits hard and fast, eyes slamming shut as you ride the waves.

Your mind is a mess of pleasure and Alex, Alex, Alex. It becomes too much, almost painful after a few moments, but you're unwilling to move. Only a sharp pull on his hair has him stopping, allowing you to recover.

You suppose its a good thing he's not human because your thighs are still locked around his head when you get the energy up to focus properly.

He looks pretty damn satisfied though.

You weakly pull yourself off him, laughing when he immediately moves to help you lay down.

"Are you good?" He asks.

There's too many adjectives to choose from so you simply respond with a kiss. Gentle and careful like always. He's still got that lovey dovey look from earlier on his face when he pulls away, repeating, "I love you."

"I love you too. Now lemme repay the favor."


End file.
